


Somewhere around Nothing

by CeruleanHeart



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Max sucks at talking, Nux Lives, Nux sucks at dying, Post-Canon, Post-Movie(s), Rough Kissing, Sharing Body Heat, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Some Plot, graphic depictions of injuries, post-apocalyptic spooning, smut looming on the horizon, things going boom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-10-15 11:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10555454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeruleanHeart/pseuds/CeruleanHeart
Summary: For a boy that wanted to die so damn bad, Nux did a pretty good job at surviving.A boy that's not quite dead and a man that's not quite alive. Where do you go when the only road you know leads forward? Maybe somewhere around nothing.NOTE: This work is on hiatus because the author is an idiot and has lost their drafts. In my defense I'm working hard on putting everything together again. This story is not abandoned!





	1. Chapter 1

Max got his car back. That’s all he wants.  
He hasn’t had a rearview mirror for longer than he can remember now but if he’d had one or if he’d bothered to look back he could’ve seen the citadel shrinking in his back with every mile he put between him and Immortan Joe’s fallen kingdom. But he doesn’t, he’s making his own way and it leads him straight ahead.

He didn’t even wait until the celebrations were over. Just grabbed what he needed, what was his anyway and went. No need to say goodbye. No need to get attached. 

The seat was uncomfortable; he shifted and tried to find a better position. At some point he was gonna have to take a break and get rid of the modifications the Citadel’s mechanics had done on his Interceptor, after they’d patched it together again for the second time in less than 3 days. At least some of them… maybe less than he wanted to admit. From the steering wheel a baby doll’s head with its face painted into a skull and nails driven through its forehead was staring up at him. Yeah. That thing had to go.

The mountains were coming up on his right and from the corner of his eye he could see the thick column of black smoke still rising from the canyon when suddenly his motor started to stutter and died. Max cursed under his breath, cursed the rushed repair job, cursed himself for his impatience. After all, the old Interceptor had taken more than just a tumble.  
He let it roll out as long as he could and tried to steer out of view behind a dune but ended up pushing for a good part of the way. Most of the remaining war party was scattered or dead and the boys from Gastown and Bullet Farm had fled home to lick their wounds. But still… better safe than sorry.

He checked the damage and found it was just a leak in the fuel line where the seams of some hastily glued pieces of rubber had come apart. Nothing serious per se, he had it fixed in a couple of minutes. But the amount of guzzoline he’d lost with no prospect of filling up again anytime soon bugged him.  
With the spare tank he had on the back of his car he was good for another 100 days or so but you never knew what kind of trouble you’d run into on Fury Road. Couldn’t hurt to scavenge some more from one of the wrecks left behind from the recent battle to make up for the loss.  
He could see one that hadn’t burned out not too far off the point where Furiosa had left the road to head towards the mountains only 3 days ago. It was worth a shot and there didn’t seem to be any competition around.The Buzzards were probably busy with the feast left behind for them in their canyon.

He got his binoculars and started scanning the horizon for vehicles, just to make sure. Quickly he came across the column of smoke which was so much more closer and menacing this way and then panned back to the wrecked car, when for the fraction of a second his eyes caught the glimpse of something white, reflecting the midday sun among the red sand almost blindingly, strangely familiar in its shape. Surprised he tried to find it again and had to search for a bit until he got it.  
White torso, black cargo pants, limping across the sand propped on a makeshift crutch made from a twisted and blackened piece of metal, looking like a magpie with a broken wing... that was a War Boy, alright. Somehow Max had hoped he’d seen the last of them. 

He squinted through his binoculars; the figure was moving slow but headed unmistakably in the same direction as him. And it was a lot closer to the wrecked car than Max was comfortable with.  
He got in the Interceptor and started the engine.

It took him less than 10 minutes at full speed and when he jumped out of his car and aimed his gun at the War Boy the dust blown up from his wheels hadn’t even settled.  
Max could see him clearly now, he was less than 100 feet away. He could see the boyish face, the carved V8 engine on his chest, the expression of fear and then disbelief in the kid’s blue eyes.  
The gun in his hand started shaking. No. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him again. Maybe another ghost had come to haunt him.  
You’ve gone mad again, his reason said. That’s just some lone survivor, there are hundreds of them and they all look the same. Get in the car and drive away. Get in now. Forget about him. He’s dead. You can outrun him, like you always do.

“Bloodbag!” The boy cried, his voice coarse from pain and dehydration and Max had to close his eyes for a second, swallow hard, then look again. Maybe if he shot him, the vision would just go away. Leave him alone. “Don’t... don’t shoot! It’s me!”  
“Damn.” Max grunted. For a boy that wanted to die so damn bad, Nux did a pretty good job at surviving. He lowered his gun.

As soon as he did that, Nux picked up the pace, hobbled across the sand, dragging one leg behind. He threw up his free arm to wave at Max frantically with a grin that almost split his head in two and then immediately lost balance and plunged face first into the red dunes.  
Maybe, Max though, maybe Nux wasn’t so good at surviving after all. Maybe he was just really bad at dying.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm trying hard to stay in character even if Max is doing some more talking in this chapter. So have some grumpy!Max and puppy!Nux.  
For addtional notes, see end of chapter.

****  
“Did you come back for me?” the boy asked after Max helped him to sit on the hood of the Interceptor, his face gleaming with both bruises and eagerness. Max gave an irritated grunt and stuffed the gun back into his holster.  
“No.” he said and looked away. Whatever made that kid think they were friends after he’d used him as his blood bag and strapped him to the lancer’s perch of his car? He had a brief flashback of himself tossing Nux a boot he’d taken from a man he’d killed in the wetlands. The look of pure joy on the boy’s face… like it was his birthday or something stupid like that. Big mistake. He was entirely too kind hearted Max decided, that put some wrong ideas in people’s heads. 

The boy was hurt bad, Max could see that now. There were cuts and bruises evenly distributed all across his body, the most prominent of them covering almost the entire side of his ribcage on the same side he dragged his leg. Gleaming in purple, blue, green and yellow with some white spots from the powder that covered Nux’s skin, it slightly resembled the image of a galaxy. There was no way he’d come out of this without some broken ribs. Nux’s hands were clogged with blood and dirt, his nails broken some of them missing revealing open flesh. But the thing that really worried Max was the leg he couldn’t see beneath the baggy cargo pants.

Nux himself seemed rather cheerful again, already eyeing the repair job done on the car, fumbling with the part of the engine that stuck out from the hood. “Tsk.” He mumbled “Mediocre. Sloppy…”  
Max had to poke him to get his attention. “What’s with your leg?” he grumbled  
Nux looked down on it and shrugged “Think it’s busted. Don’t know much about organics… Can’t use it like before.”  
“Show it.” Max demanded not unimpressed by the boy’s nonchalance.  
Nux obeyed, as good at taking orders as ever, and pulled his pant leg up to his knee, revealing an injury that almost turned the older man’s stomach.  
His lower leg was swollen and bruised so bad, it was almost black. On one side of his shin was a deep dent and on the other a bump, where the bone had broken and shifted. At least it was a closed, simple fracture, easy to set and splint. The boy had more luck than judgement.  
“How?” Max finally asked. He still had a hard time believing Nux was alive, he’d SEEN the stunt the kid had pulled on that war rig.  
“Well, it must’ve happened when I flipped with the….”  
“That’s not it.” Nux’s cheery attitude started to grate on his nerves “How are you still alive? You were DYING the first time I saw you. And now you’re here…” he grabbed the kid’s left upper arm, the only unhurt spot he could find, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating again, talking to thin air.  
To his surprise Nux started blushing, lowering his gaze, scratching his shaved head, embarrassed.  
“I… I thought I’d make it this time for sure….” he stuttered, eyes hefted on the ground “The gates of Valhalla…” a big sob interrupted him “But when I woke up…” he scrubbed his eyes violently “I was rejected again.” He finished with a miserable look on his face.

Max had to take a calming breath, remembering the way War Boys thought about death, or life for that matter.  
“I mean…” he said slowly “How did you make it out? How did you walk all the way here, with that leg? You couldn’t even stand before.”  
“Oh!” Nux beamed, finally understanding. “Well, that’s all thanks to you.”  
“Thanks to me?” Max asked weakly, not sure he was ready for the answer.  
The former War Boy nodded “Your blood. High Octane, crazy blood… I mean, healthy. Healthy blood, making me strong and shine again, from the inside. Better than nitro.” His eyes were sparkling up at Max.  
“Hm.” That actually made sense in a way. Max wasn’t sure what was making the War Boys so sick, radiation maybe or the overuse of that chrome stuff they seemed to love spraying on their teeth, no, that couldn’t be healthy… But it was true Nux’s health had improved rapidly after they’d hooked him up to Max. “Better make it last then. You’re not getting any more of that.” He said gruffly.  
“Ok.” Nux mumbled, his face falling just a little bit “Fair enough.”

Max decided he wasn’t going to pry any details out of the boy. He would set his leg, take him back maybe half way to the Citadel, then send a signal. He was sure Furiosa and from what it had looked like Capable too, were going to be more than happy to pick him up. He’d be long gone by the time they arrived.  
Satisfied with his plan Max turned his back on Nux and walked over to the wrecked car, looking for something stable and straight for splinting the broken leg. He was in luck, the car wreck was a War Boy vehicle and there were still some of the exploding lances scattered around it. No bodies, luckily, maybe the Buzzards had been here after all.  
He grabbed one, carefully screwing off the explosive end. The lance was thin; he could easily crop it to the right size with his bolt cutter. Nux was watching him with keen interest, when he returned and lined up the lance with his leg to take measurements. He cropped it in two pieces and got some strips of cloth from the back of his car.  
Then he looked his patient hard in the eye. “This is gonna hurt.”  
Nux smiled “Already does.” He chirped and Max had to smile at that a little bit but managed to hide it in time.  
He put one hand on each side of the boy’s leg. “Ready?” he asked and without waiting for an answer shoved and popped the bone back into its place. Nux didn’t even scream, the only sound Max heard was the thud when his head hit the hood of his car, unconscious.

 

When Nux finally came round Max was putting on the finishing touches, splinting limbs had become a sad routine after everything collapsed.  
“I’ll be done here in a minute.” He announced “But don’t think I’ll take you back all the way.”  
The boy blinked at him, confused “Back, where?”  
“The Citadel.” Max looked up at his patient, seeing Nux bite his lower lip “What now?”  
“I can’t.”  
“Can’t what?”  
“Go back.”  
Max sighed, this was another War Boy thing, for sure. “Why?”  
“I asked them to witness me. I should be dead. I can’t go back now, I’m supposed to only see them again in Valhalla.” He looked at Max “If I could stay with you, I’m sure I’d get there eventually.”  
“You’re hurt.” Max grumbled, “And sick. You need a doctor. Not a ride to Valhalla.” pulling tight the last knot a little more forceful than necessary, making Nux wince.  
The boy frowned at Max, blinking away tears, whether from pain or anger was hard to say.  
“And what do you think a doctor could do for me?” he said, sounding bitter “Organic mechanic said I was half a corpse anyway. The one that can help me is you. Help me not to die soft.” The last one was a plea, so desperate it made Max’s heart ache. So that was, what all of the talk was about.  
“Look…” he started “… don’t have provision for two. Not water, not food…”  
“Wait!” Nux was grabbing his shoulders now, holding on to him like for dear life. “I can drink the coolant from my car! It’s almost pure aqua cola, more than 2 gallons. Filled it up myself not more than a week ago… And I can find my own food. I’m not a big eater, promised.”  
Max was ready to believe that, no doubt, still he shook his head “No.” but the boy wasn’t listening.  
“And… and I can help you with your car, I’m a black thumb, remember? I’ll do whatever you say, I’ll obey no matter what! I’ll pull my own weight… look at my car. It’s not all busted we can sell or trade the parts that are still good!” 

 

For a moment Max thought the kid was talking himself into a frenzy but then he spun around to take a good hard look at the car wreck, he’d been eyeing all this time. How could he not have noticed? It was indeed Nux’s car, the one he’d been strapped to. The one the kid had flooded with guzzoline. Guzzoline, that had long seeped into the sand, lost without purpose. That sure changed things… Now taking Nux back was going to be more of a bother than dragging him along.  
“There’s no room in the cabin.” Max made one last attempt to talk Nux out of this.  
“I’ll go in the back, next to the spare tank. More room for my leg.” The boy replied with a winning grin.  
“If you hold me back, I’m ditching you.”  
“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I can drink the coolant from my car": Coolant is usually made half of distilled water and half of anti freeze. Since Nux drives a really old model and there's a supply shortage for basically everything I think it's not too far stretched to assume he'd just use regular water for cooling the engine. It's probably still not a very good idea to drink it but Nux seems to be used to some gnarly shit.
> 
> "...and popped the bone back into its place.": When setting a leg without a cast it's a better idea to wait until the swelling subsides but for the sake of storytelling Max does it right away.
> 
> "no room in the cabin", "...next to the spare tank": Max has had two extra fuel tanks installed on the back of his Interceptor since Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior, giving up a big part of the car cabin for them. The passenger seat was removed. The Interceptor in the opening scene of Fury Road is slightly different to the Road Warrior version, having one big and a smaller tank on the back of the car (potentially leaving room for a passenger) before it is modified for battle by the War Boys. I figured that would be the first thing Max would want to have reinstalled to be able to travel longer distances.
> 
> I'm not sure if "spare tank" is the correct expression and a car enthusiast might want to correct me. The author knows very little about automobiles but she's trying, ok? ^^;
> 
> Also I promise there will be some fluff soon. Stay with me and if you enjoy this, leave a comment or a kudos. I'm relying on your feedback. :D


	3. Chapter 3

So Max got his car back, plus an additional passenger. That’s definitely more than he wants.

But Nux keeps his promise and proves himself damn useful. He knows more about cars than Max could learn in a lifetime and he’s deft with anything mechanical, even with his torn up hands. The downside is; he’s also chatty and slightly overeager, almost cutting himself up again while rummaging in the belly of the overturned car wreck. Max has to stop him, almost forcefully and remind him they can’t take EVERYTHING if he still wants to sit somewhere.  
The boy is proud of his work, so proud he can’t shut up about the modifications he’s done, talking like a waterfall and he doesn’t leave it behind without remorse. Max wonders how he could’ve been so eager to sacrifice the car and himself for Immortan Joe not too long ago, but it’s none of his business, not really, so he doesn’t ask.  
Instead he straps the boy to the back of his car next to the spare tank, a bit like a piece of luggage but he can’t have him tumble down with his broken leg and just like they’ve agreed Nux doesn’t complain, just obeys. Communicating though the missing back window, he helps him navigate out of enemy territory leaving the Buzzards, Gas Town and Bullet Farm and finally the silhouette of the Citadel behind, entering no man’s land. 

Max starts to think this maybe isn’t such a bad set up, it’s working pretty well. He can keep an eye on the road and Nux has his back, keeping a lookout for trouble. The talking has stopped too, the kid only pops his head through the back window every once in a while to give him directions.  
Max is contempt; they drive until nightfall without interruption.

They set up camp next to a big boulder and a few dried up bushes and while Max is making a small fire, Nux limbs around the car to take a leak. He returns, triumphantly, with a small goanna, about the size of his lower arm, he’s killed with a stone.  
“Got us dinner.” He grins at Max.  
“Not bad.” He mumbles, impressed.  
They cook it whole over the fire and share it. Nux is tearing at the the oily white meat with his teeth, like he is starving. Max thinks he probably was, having only taken some water he’s offered him earlier and nothing else, stubbornly trying to keep at least half the promise of pulling his own weight, after he found that the coolant from his car was undrinkable, brown with rust.  
  
After dinner, Nux is chatting again, talking about the things he wants to fix on the Interceptor in the morning but Max is only half listening. He watches Nux over the fire getting excited about a small modification he plans, something, he thinks is going to be “real shine”. The flames paint his skin a healthy shade, making him look young and vulnerable, casting the shadows of his lashes on his cheeks, making his eyes gleam. Max can’t see their color in the dark, but he remembers how blue they are. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen eyes like this before, not even on a girl. He wonders, for a moment, how old the boy is and how much time he’s got left.  
  
They go to sleep soon after. Max reclining his seat and stretching out with a sigh, it’s not a lot of comfort but more than he’s had in a while. Nux is back in his own spot again and he hears him shuffling for a while before he drifts into sleep.

Max wakes up, in the middle of the night, from a noise he can’t quite place, a small, persistent rattling sound. Half asleep he wonders if the wind has picked up, tearing on some loose parts of the roof, until he realizes it’s something else entirely; the chattering of teeth. On the back of his car, Nux is freezing in the chilly desert night.  
Irritated, Max decides it isn’t his problem and tries to go back to sleep, pulling his blanket tighter. But the image of the boy, curled up next to the spare tank, his arms wrapped around his bony shoulders, shaking like a child, sneaks into his mind and stays there, gnawing on his conscience, not letting him find rest again. After a while he hoists himself up in the seat and opens the driver’s door.  
“Hey.” He calls out into the night, his voice raspy with sleep, and watches Nux’s silhouette lift its head “Get in.”  
The boy obeys without an answer and Max listens to him getting up and hobbling around the car while he scoots over in the seat. There isn’t a lot of space but if they both lie on their sides, they’ll fit in like two sardines in a can. Max isn’t exactly excited about that prospect but he really, really wants to go back to sleep.  
Nux peeks his head through the open door and Max pats on the small stretch of free space next to him, signalling him to lie down. Nux climbs in, squirming to find a comfortable position for his injured leg and settles with his back against Max’s chest, curled up awkwardly to take up as little space as possible, radiating cold.  
“Thanks.” He whispers, his voice small, humbled by gratitude.  
“Hmph.” Max says and closes his eyes.  
  
Next to him Nux is still slightly shaking, his body having cooled out too much during the early hours of the night and after a couple of minutes, Max pulls out one side of the blanked from under himself and wraps it around the boy with a disarmed grunt, pulling him closer.  
Startled, Nux spins his head around and their lips crash in something like a clumsy kiss, teeth clicking, noses bumping. The touch is brief, brief enough to count as an accident but at the same time long enough for the sensation to etch itself into Max’s mind. The feeling of the boys scarred mouth against his, dry and silky, like parchment, the ghost of his taste sneaking past Max’s lips, it all lingers there, tingling even after Nux has turned his head again with a shy “Sorry”, even after he’s stopped shaking and has fallen asleep with deep, relaxed breaths, making Max’s stomach tight, poisoning him with the faint memory of tenderness.  
Something he had thought forgotten a long time ago.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goannas are a type of lizard native to the Australian outback. They're not pretty but edible and apparently taste like chicken. 
> 
> Even Max isn't immune to campfire magic.
> 
> Accidental kisses are my guilty pleasure. 
> 
> This is burning slow, but burn it will. ;) Do let me know if you enjoy this and if I should continue writing by leaving a kudos or a comment. Your feedback means everything!


	4. Chapter 4

The heat is smothering him, covering him like a lead blanked, pinning him on his back, crushing the air from his lungs. There’s fire all around him and under his skin, singing in his ears. He’s burning, he’s burning…

Max wakes again, gasping, sweating, struggling, only to find he’s still being weighed down by something heavy on his chest. But it’s not the heat of an inferno, it’s another body. It takes him a couple of confused moments, close to panicking, until he remembers where he is, who he is and who’s on top of him.  
They must have shifted in their sleep. Max is on his back; almost spread-eagled and Nux is splayed half across his chest, one leg between his thighs, his right arm curled tight around Max, fist in his hair, holding on to him. The kid is taller than him so Max’s head is tucked neatly under his chin flush against his neck, he can hear the boy’s breath rolling in like waves.

His heart is still hammering in his chest, whether from his nightmare or the unexpected intimacy, Max doesn’t dare to question, but it takes him a little while until he can muster the strength to push off the other body and roll him on his side. The kid is heavier than he looks, all loose limbed and boneless and doesn’t let go of Max without mumbling a protest in his sleep.  
Snuggling, he thinks almost indignantly after he’s finally freed himself, snuggling is NOT what he’s signed up for. He glares at the boy accusingly for a few seconds but Nux’s hand comes up, roaming over the empty spot next to him and Max flees from the car before it can touch him, feeling slightly violated. 

His shirt is soaked with sweat, sticking to his skin, even though the sun has barely climbed over the horizon and the temperature is as pleasant as it gets in the desert. He tries to calm down, steady his breath but his eyes and his mind wander back to the sleeping boy in the car, who’s now curled up in himself, looking so innocent, so peaceful and so soft.  
The memory of last night hits Max, hits him hard and he catches himself licking his lips, feeling for imprints Nux’s scars might have left on him. What a mad thing to do, what a mad thing to think. He slaps himself to snap out of it.  
Swallowing hard he really needs to remember what a wild, bloodthirsty, raging thing Nux has been for the better part of the time he’s known him. There’s nothing innocent and peaceful anymore in this wasteland the world has become. Nothing soft, except maybe Max himself, for letting the boy get under his skin like that. Screw it, tonight the brat can sleep where he belongs, he’s not gonna have any more of this, oh no not Max, no way. 

 

The anger comes to him as a great relief. Anger’s good, with anger the road warrior in him can work, anger, he understands. He stomps around the boulder angrily, pisses angrily, then grabs his binoculars angrily to angrily scan the horizon. His whole body is aching but his mood is already starting to improve.  
They’re nowhere, really, nothing to see but sand, some rocks, sand and some more sand in any direction. This is dead land. Just the way Max likes it.

He considers waking up Nux for a moment, so they can get moving, but decides he needs to blow off some steam, get some alone time between them. He busies himself for a while, checking the tire pressure and the oil level, getting the sand out of the engine and the gears, rearranges some of the load for better balance, counts their provisions. A part of him hopes the kid will just wake up from all the noise he’s making but Nux sleeps soundly, exhausted beyond measure.

The sun is almost at its zenith and the heat is making the air shimmer, when Max finally gives in and resorts to gently poking the boy in the shoulder with a wrench, from a safe distance, mostly to make sure he’s still alive.  
Nux blinks, then rubs his eyes, yawning. When he sees the other man he smiles, all happy, lazy and warm. And damn, the kid is pretty when he does that, it’s like the sun coming out on a cloudy day. Max thinks it’s unfair, no one with a botched up face like that should be able to smile so prettily, that’s cheating.

“What’cha smiling at? It’s almost noon.” He says gruffly, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Wah… why?” Nux laughs softly, still dazed “Mmmh… ‘m smiling at you.”

Max wants to strangle him. He really does. 

“Quit it.” he snaps “C’mon, get up.”

Nux scrambles at his words, fighting to stand with his broken leg and Max ends up offering him a hand and pulls him to his feet. He stumbles, and holds on to the older man’s shoulders, before he can find his balance. The boy looks worse for wear, his bruises in full bloom after a good night’s rest and he winces in pain as he straightens.  
He probably notices Max’s critical look, as he gives him the once over, because he puffs out his chest, and pats the roof of the Interceptor like it’s the back of an old friend, saying “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier? Can’t wait to get my hands on her!”

Max snorts. Cars are girls, huh? Well, it figures.  
“Because you look like shit.” he answers, handing him the makeshift crutch. “Take it easy…”

Nux pouts at him, clearly disappointed. Max decides not to listen to him protesting, claiming he’s never been better in his whole life. Instead he ducks into the driver’s cabin and puts the seat back upright.  
The boy is still going on about feeling shine and wanting to work on the car and Max has to put a lid on that, or his ears are gonna bleed. He points at Nux’s hands, freshly bandaged the night before.  
“You get those dirty again, they’re gonna rot right off.”  
He’s maybe a little bit too pleased when the boy looks at his hands in shocked silence for a couple of minutes, probably waiting for his fingers to start falling off any second. It’s not like he doesn’t want the kid to fiddle with the car, he’s sure he’s going to do a magnificent job, but they’ve stayed out here for too long already. He hasn’t seen anything or anyone in the hours he’s been up and only the living creature in a 100 mile radius might have been the goanna, they’ve had for dinner but that doesn’t mean they’re safe.  
Max is starting to feel restless again, his nerves on edge. He needs to move. He points at the back of his car and calls out to Nux, breaking his meditation over his fingers.

“Hop on, we’re moving.”

For a second the boy looks like he’s going to protest again, but he gives him a sharp look, reminding him of their deal and the kid shuffles off, mumbling to himself, upset about this missed opportunity.  
He sits next to the spare tank, sulking.  
Max gets in the car, adjusting the position of his seat and grabs the wheel, feeling the engine vibrate after he’s switched on the ignition. Yeah that’s better he’s much more himself and less of a baby sitter this way.  
He steers the Interceptor back on the road and feels a rush of joy when he accelerates, speeding towards the horizon. How Max loves that, seeing the road unwind in front of him, the landscape zipping by, turning into a blur on the corner of his eyes, his mind. The steady hum of his trusted V8 drowns out the voices in his head, soothes his restless thoughts. It gives him peace, the idea that he’s the one thing moving forward, always, always forward in a world that has come to an abrupt halt and then slowly started going back, retracing its own steps into barbarism.

 

After a couple of hours the scenery starts changing, sand turns into pebbles, then bigger rocks. Soon they’re driving through the shallow valleys of a mars-like landscape. Max notices channels on the red surface and the remains of some dead plants. That means water has come through here, some time ago, maybe even on a semi-regular basis. Water is both good and bad. It means they might be able to fill up again soon, which is good with them being two drinkers now but it also means they might have to fight for it.  
He slows down and pulls into the small sidearm of a valley. The sun has gone down quite a bit and the shadows of the rocks are starting to get longer, soon they’re going to be trapped in a dark maze and he prefers seeing where he’s going or who’s coming for him. So far, they’re alone or at least seem to have gone unnoticed by anyone who might be around. Max would like to keep it that way.

He parks between two rocks, shielded from view on three sides. When he gets out and stretches, his joints pop and creak, making him groan. It feels like the pain and exhaustion are finally catching up with him. 

“Why we’re stopping?” Nux calls from the back, abruptly reminding him of his presence.

Max doesn’t feel like explaining, instead he walks around the car to produce a big package of folded, sand colored canvas from somewhere in the passenger’s side, as well as some rope and a few hooks.

“Help me set up the tarp.” He grumbles wearily and the boy jumps at the order, eager for something to do.

They cover the side of the car that’s still visible and create a tent-like structure that both provides shade and hides them from plain view, visually merging them with the landscape around them, the simplest form of camouflage. At the same time it looks a little bit like they’re on a camping trip and that, well that’s definitely the most wholesome thought Max has had in a while.

It’s still sizzling so they retreat to the shades, panting and sweating. Max gets something to drink from the car, the water skin for himself and one of six small bottles that have found their way into Max’s car as a little parting gift, courtesy of Furiosa and the girls. He knows it’s valuable but feels no desire to drink mother’s milk, not after he’s seen how it’s produced. His companion however looks like he needs that kind of nourishment, badly.

“Here.” He takes a big sip from his water skin and holds the bottle out to the boy.

“Oh. You don’t have to.” Nux says with agitating modesty.

“Good for your bones. Drink it.” Max grumbles and thrusts the small bottle into his hand.

The boy looks at him wide eyed, then takes a sip. His eyes go even wider.  
“Glory, it’s good! The real stuff, the real, real stuff! Not watered down at all!” he empties the bottle greedily, then holds it upside down and shakes it to catch the last drops with his tongue.

Max has to smile a bit at such a childlike behaviour but he turns to the car so the boy doesn’t catch him, pretending to look for something.  
He feels worn out, his injured hand has started throbbing again and his bad knee is killing him. After the hours spend behind the wheel, it’s so stiff he can barely flex it. With a sigh he finally sits down next to the boy. 

“We’re staying here?” he hears him ask.

“Hmph.”

“Think there’s water somewhere near? I saw a bird earlier and those channels in the sand, lots of dead green too.” 

So the kid has noticed. He’s smart, alert. Max likes that.  
“Hmph.” He thinks he needs to rest his eyes a bit. They’re sore from the dry air and the sun.

“You wanna take a nap? I can stand watch.”

“Hmmmm…”

 

There’s a hand grabbing his leg, creeping up his thigh. Max has his sawed off shotgun out and against his attacker, before he gets his eyes open, finger flexing on the trigger.  
Nux stares at him bend half over his knee, frozen in his action, one hand below Max’s knee the other one on his inner thigh.

“Don’t.... don’t…. I just….” he stammers.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Max snarls.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry…. I was looking at your brace… sorry, please don’t shoot me?” Nux still isn’t moving with the shotgun pressed against him, the warmth of his hands seeping through the fabric of Max’s pants. They sit there, searing his flesh. The moment stretches out, seemingly endless, creating a void between them that fills with a million unsaid things until Nux slowly, very slowly lifts his hands off.

“I swear I wasn’t trying anything. I’m really, really sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Can’t you put the gun down?” he asks, carefully.

Max realizes, it’s him making this awkward. The boy’s been doing nothing but trying to help and make himself useful, ever since he switched sides. He probably got bored with nothing to do while he was napping. Suddenly, he’s very embarrassed about freaking out like this.

“S’ok…” he grumbles and lowers the gun “I’m not used to having company. And… you’re kinda touchy.”

“I just wanted to help.” The boy says, pouting, and maybe Max can spot a blush on his cheeks, somewhere among the bruises but he’s not sure.

“I know.” 

Nux touches the brace again, gingerly, looking at Max, questioning. He nods and the boy pries it off swiftly with his long, nimble fingers. It’s amazing in a way, to see him take it apart at the speed of light, totally immersed in what he’s doing but Max still has to force himself to trust the kid to put it back together again. He watches him, tense, until he’s finished.  
The brace doesn’t look much different from before but after he’s strapped it back on and walks a few steps, testing, he realizes it works way better, smoother now. It supports his weight just like when he first got it and takes away some of the pain that comes from the abrasion of his joints.  
He’s bad with praise, so he all he does is give Nux a thumb up but that seems more than enough for the former War Boy. He beams at Max, so proud, so eager to please.

As a reward he finally lets him work on the engine and for the next few hours all he sees of Nux is his lower part sticking out from different places of his car.  
It’s almost dark when the kid returns to his side pleased and smeared with engine grease. The only sign of life Max has seen all day are some birds in the distance. There must be water somewhere or worse, the carcass of something… or someone. 

 

They wait until the stars are out and then Max goes scouting the surroundings, hidden by the darkness, leaving the boy behind to guard the car. It’s much easier to climb the small hills with his newly adjusted leg brace and he makes a mental note to thank him properly at some point.  
He walks for half an hour keeping an eye out for the treacherous sign of campfire or the sound of voices and engines. But the desert lies dead and silent and the only thing watching him is the moon high up in the sky, lighting his path. Finding his way back proves easy.  
For dinner they eat cold beans from a can, not risking to make a fire. It takes telling Nux he’s paying him for his work, so his companion accepts his share.  
  
He doesn’t invite the boy into the car again. But when he climbs in with him later that night a little while after Max has reclined, looking for warmth, he lets him wiggle under the blanket. He’s gonna get Nux his own blanket at some point and maybe a shirt too. But not tonight. Tonight he turns his back to the boy and hopes they won’t end up entangled again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something is brewing inside Max. What can it be? ;)
> 
> Sorry not much is happening in this chapter but I felt like I had to flesh out their interaction a little bit. Buuut there's going to be some action scenes in the next chapter! So stay tuned. lol
> 
> As always all your comments and kudos are super appreciated and definitely help me to see this through! Thank you so much. ^^


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit violence, death and strong language. But I reckon if this isn't your cup of tea you might not be in the fandom in the first place. I'm just pointing it out so no one says they weren't warned.

Max wakes up to gunfire and a blood curdling scream. He finds his weapon instinctively even before his brain can shed the shackles of sleep. The spot next to him is empty, cold, a Nux shaped hole in time and space. Was that his scream? Was that his gun?

He jumps out of the car just in time to hear another shot, further away this time. Engines are roaring, a cloud of dust is rising behind one of the shallow hills but moving away. And there on top of it is Nux pressed to the ground, binoculars on his nose, his crutch abandoned next to him, watching the scene hidden to Max.

A wave of relief washes over him, so strong it makes him feel like the world around him is spinning for a second. He shakes it off with an angry grunt and starts crawling up the hill, careful to stay out of sight. 

Nux has heard him coming because he passes him the binoculars without hesitating.

“We’ve got a problem.” He says as Max glances at the scene in front of them. And indeed they do. 

He counts 6 bikes and 5 cars in total. They’re chasing something that might have once been a school bus but since then has grown numerous tumours made of other car and he’s pretty sure some trawler parts as well.

The thing is as slow as it is ugly, swaying from one side to the other like a ship in a storm, and painfully underarmed. Someone from the inside of it is throwing furniture at their attackers. It’s way more effective than it is comical, actually. Max watches with some satisfaction as a stool hits the windshield of one of the cars and sends it flying. 

For a second the head of a young girl with flaxen curls pops out of one of the windows of the behemoth. She’s howling with triumph, shaking her small fist but her victory is short-lived. A bullet takes her, right between the eyes and she goes down in a cloud of pink mist that stains glass and metal like the sloppy kiss of a malevolent god. 

“Witness.” Nux says next to Max and from the corner of his eyes he can see the boy forming the sign of the V8. It might be a habit, it might be conviction but the respect the kid shows for the death of that complete stranger stirs something in Max that would have been admiration in any other man.  
  
Nux’s humanity is raw and twisted and painful but it’s more real than anything Max has felt in a long, long time.

“We gotta help them.” He says, surprising himself but he cannot stand this. He cannot stand being less human than Nux, the dead boy, the War Boy. It’s like he’s woken up to a nightmare, something only half real, someone only half Max. Maybe he’s still asleep. Things are making little sense, he is making little sense.

“YES.” Nux answers and there’s such excitement in his voice it borders on greed. The gates of Valhalla are wide open.

They slither down the hill in a cascade of pebbles. It’s like a race to the car between a broken man and a mad man and Max isn’t even sure about who is who. 

“Let me drive!” Nux pleads, panting, his cheeks flushed with excitement.

“No way.”

“Please! Bloodbag, please! I’m not much of a gunman, I’m a driver! By Valhalla I’m a driver YOU know that!” And oh, how bloody well Max knows that. Nux is one hell of a driver, they would have both been dead and rotting days ago if he wasn’t. He’s also kamicrazee, that’s for sure. But so is Max.

He grips Nux’s hand, grips it hard and looks him in the eyes unwavering, determination like steel.

“You keep us safe. You keep us alive.” He says and also a thousand things more that don’t need to be said because in the boy’s eyes he can see he knows them, he understands. He knows what it means when a man like Max trusts him. 

The blue of Nux’s eyes is a cold inferno when he smiles at him, all skull and bones, all War Boy and no actual boy at all. He grips the sides of the older man’s neck and brings their foreheads together and the blue is filling Max’s vision like the ocean on a stormy day. The ocean Max remembers, the ocean that has turned into to the plains of silence but is alive right there, right now. Dangerous. Deadly.

“I’ll keep you safe.” And that’s gotta do. That’s more than he can ask of Dead Boy and he knows it. He smacks the car keys into Nux’s hands and that breaks the spell, sends Nux on his way, sends Max and all his senses into battle mode.

____

Together they are perfect. In sync. How did he even forget about that? It’s happened before didn’t it? It’s like Nux knows what he’s thinking, anticipating it in advance, adjusting his every move to it.

They come down on the raiders like the Wrath of Hell. Max takes out three of the bikes before they even notice them. And Nux doesn’t just drive the car, he’s dancing, he’s flying, stinging like a wasp. It’s fucking beautiful.

If Max’s had any compassion left in his heart, maybe, only maybe he’d feel sorry for the raiders. But he doesn’t and his shot hits car number two of five through the back window and the driver’s head and sends it straight into a big, red boulder and a fiery death. Meanwhile Nux crushes another bike under their wheels because he can and because the V8 under their hood, that monster that reigns both their lives, is faster and stronger than anything the poor suckers have ever seen. 

Nux rams the Interceptor into raider car number three and the sparks from the grinding of their frames illuminate its pilot’s face like a grotesque mask. Max remembers the girl with the flaxen hair and her desperate resistance to a predetermined fate and shoots said face clean off. The mist has just the same color because out here in the waste all lives perish equally, the good, the bad and the worst.

Two down. Three to go. 

A bullet zips by Max’s head and he ducks behind the spare tank, where he’s taken his perch as their sniper. It’s two raiders on a bike out on revenge for the death of their comrades. Luckily their rage has made them blind for their initial target and the driver is hit straight on with what appears to be a floor lamp cutting his head off like a butcher’s knife.

One of the cars falls back and they’ve almost reached the modified school bus now. He can see a number of faces through the wide back window, they’re haggard with distress and hope. They’re so close, for a second he thinks he can hear their voices calling out to him. 

“YOU PROMISED TO HELP US!” Max’s inner demons cry out instead, drowning out all the other noises “WHERE WERE YOU?!”

Nux chooses that exact moment to slam in the breaks because the left over raiders vehicle is cutting them off and the world goes spinning, spinning so violently it shuts up the demons and all Max can do is hold on for dear life. 

Before he can recover the boy goes into reverse gear and Max is facing their enemies head on right in time to see their faces distort in horror as the Interceptor smacks into them. Nux is a devil behind the wheel and they didn’t even know what was coming for them. This time Max aims at the engine and just as if the kid has anticipated this move he yanks at the wheel and steers their car away in an elegant loop at the same second the bullet hits the target and blows engine and enemy car up into a ball of fire.

The shockwave of the explosion presses Max into the car and he falls through the missing back window. He meets Nux’s gaze there, crazed up on blood and nitrogen.  
“Glory me, Bloodbag! What a day!” the boy cries and out of the corner of his eyes Max can see that he’s operating the clutch pedal with his crutch instead of his broken left leg. 

Someone is laughing, raw and crazy and after a few seconds Max realizes it’s no other than himself. What a day indeed. What a beautiful day to be alive! The madness is clearly rubbing off but the road warrior can’t tell anymore on or from whom. 

Then, things happen all at once. The left over raiders car is back suddenly, apparently super and nitro charged and it flies by them and to the behemoth’s side. They’ve got a grenade launcher and it fires just as someone from the other side hurls a big barrel with unknown content at their foes. 

There’s two explosions happening at once and they merge together into a perfect, beautiful sphere of fire that’s rising in front of them like the sun on the Last Day of Earth.  
  
Max never knows what exactly Nux is doing but whatever it is it turns gravitation into his enemy and tosses him out of the car onto the sand and into darkness.

____

When he comes back to his senses he’s alone with the burning carcasses of the vehicles and the sun and the sand and the musky sweet smell of burning flesh. It takes most of his willpower not to vomit his guts out and nothing at all to curse the War Boy for leaving him to his fate.

There are tire tracks leading into the distance of the rocky maze he’s caught in and after checking his body for broken limbs but not finding any, he gets up and starts following them.  
  
It’s not like he’s got much of a choice with his ride and all of his provisions gone and possibly hostile reinforcements on his back. Get away while he still can, before the sun fries him up like a jellyfish on the beach.

That damn brat Nux better be dead or Max is gonna kick his powdered white ass next time he sees him.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry this is so short and took so long to write. I've been super busy and didn't even have time to check back here or reply to comments. Thank you so much to everyone who left one anyway or a kudos or subscription. Your support is greatly appreciated! <3
> 
> I hope you liked this and promise the next one won't take as long and will have some fluff again. Because of course Nux wouldn't abandon Max. ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Max walks. And walks.  
The tire tracks are his lifeline but the wind is already gnawing on them and the longer he walks the fainter they grow. From above the sun is stinging mercilessly so after a while he takes his shirt off and winds it around his head. It helps some but not much.  
  
Sometimes he climbs up on one of the hills but is only presented with the emptiness of a red landscape criss-crossed by dry channels. A labyrinth that looks like a giant, fossilized brain. 

How can this be? There are people here, there are animals here, there’s life here. Where did everything go? There must be… something. Max doesn’t even worry anymore about running into friend or foe, anybody will do. Anything. 

He’s not someone to give up easily, not someone to surrender to death without a fight so he walks. Even after the sun goes down, he walks.  
Under the moonlight his demons return. Silently this time, they creep up behind him. Somehow that’s worse. When he glances over his shoulder he meets their dead eyes, their skull grins. Their silence speaks to him still. It says they’re patient because soon he will be one of them. 

It’s cold now, SO damn cold. It makes him miss his car and his blanket. Heck, it even makes him miss the boy and his body heat. Pathetic.  
He’s been played, hasn’t he? He wonders if Nux was after his car all along. If he was, hats off to him, that act he put on was pretty convincing. Max allows himself to hate the boy for a bit, trudging on and on with no end.

Every once in a while he thinks he hears voices or the sound of engines from somewhere but it’s only the wind in his ears. Every once in a while he sees the silhouette of a person or a vehicle but it’s only the shadow of a big rock.  
He’s alone, more alone than ever before. The land has never been so vast, so empty, so hollow. Max has never been so small. The night is swallowing him whole, trickles into his mind, frays out its edges. Finally his demons have caught up. They’re walking next to him now, his personal entourage to hell.

 

Hell…

  


…arrives with sunrise. It’s made of heat and thirst, of light that makes him blind. It burns his skin and cracks his lips. The searing sunrays paint the horizon in silver, make it shimmer like mercury, an optical illusion mocking his craving for water. It’s like the desert wants to taunt its victims, to torture them, before it devours them. He puts two small pebbles in his mouth to start the flow of saliva but it only works for a few hours before he spits them out as dry as before.

Max has lost the tracks by now and all sense of time and direction. Rationally he knows he shouldn’t be walking anymore, that it’s only going to kill him sooner in this heat. Dehydration however makes poor decisions for his brain, tells him if he makes it to a settlement in time, he will live. It drives him across the sand with frantic determination, makes him walk until his legs cramp and he falls. It even forces him back to his feet and makes him walk some more until he falls again and cannot get up anymore. 

Not much time passes until the wind starts to form small dunes around his body and it won’t take long either until he’s covered completely. The part of Max that is still there muses idly what his grave will be like, a little red hill of his own or his bleached white bones in the sun?

His demons are laughing at him now and if he had the energy he would join them. He’s such a silly man, so utterly sentimental for trusting someone, for getting himself into this. He deserves being laughed at. When Furiosa called him a fool, she was right.  
The laughter grows louder with every minute, the voices are merging into one big hum that threatens to split Max’s skull and makes him feel sick to the core. Agony. He wants to scream but his throat is too dried up and his tongue is a piece of hard leather in his mouth. 

Just when he thinks this is the end this is how he’s gonna die, just another casualty of the great big waste, the humming stops. And in the following silence there are footsteps and a shadow that falls on his tortured body and then an all too familiar voice that cries:

“Bloodbag!”

He’s not abandoned, he’s not forsaken, not betrayed. His boy has come for him. For him.

Nux hands are on him and he flips him on his back with ease. Max can’t see his face clearly against the light but he feels his rough caress trough his hair and suddenly there’s warm rain falling on his cheeks and his lips and his forehead. He’s crying, the stupid kid is crying and sobbing like a child, loud and ugly. His salty tears sting on Max’s burnt skin.

“I thought I’d lost you, I thought I’d never find you again.” Nux weeps “I’ve been looking everywhere…” Such a crybaby. Max smiles even though it splits his lips open.

He wants to say something, wants to get up but he doesn’t have the strength. So he just lies there croaking incoherently until Nux wipes his eyes violently and then shoves an arm under Max’s neck. Holding him half upright like this he puts his free hand on his forehead.

“You’re running hot, mate! Gotta cool down your engine or else you’re a goner. Here….” he uncorks the waterskin he must’ve brought with him and carefully pours some of the liquid inside over Max’s face. It’s pure bliss. With a touch so tender, it’s almost loving he rubs some more water on the older man’s dry lips and then presses the waterskin against them.  
“Drink.” He whispers and Max opens his mouth and lets the water flow into it.

But when he tries to swallow his throat is so sore he chokes on it and coughs it out again, spilling it over his chest, Nux’s hands and into the sand. What a waste! He lets out a frustrated groan but the boy is there hushing him gently, petting his hair. It makes him feel light headed, slightly delirious.

“It’s ok. I’ll help you. I know what to do. Easy, easy… open the hatch.”

He obeys and watches Nux take a big swing of the water, then he bends over and presses his lips on Max’s.  
It’s still not a kiss. So Max allows it, lets the water drizzle over his tongue and down his parched throat. It’s warm and slick and it tastes of the boy’s sweet spit. It tastes of life.  
Now the fluid goes down easy and Max manages to swallow properly by the time Nux sits up and smiles at him.

“Better?” 

Max nods.

“More.” he demands, voice cracking.

The boy takes another swing and when their lips connect again Max meets them with insatiable greed. He surges up into the touch and drinks the water in two big gulps but it’s not enough. He’s crazy with thirst so he licks into Nux’s mouth and sucks the moisture from his tongue and his lips with a hungry growl.  
And now it’s definitely a kiss and a dirty one too because the boy melts into him with an audible moan and they get hopelessly entangled in it, shamelessly making out here on his would-be deathbed. It’s almost violent, all tongue and teeth, deep and messy. Max doesn’t care right now, thirst isn’t the only thing he’s crazy with… or for. He just wants more, he wants it all, later he can blame the heat stroke if he still bothers then. 

When Nux pulls away his lips are red and puffy from Max chapped mouth and the stubble on his chin. They’re beautiful like this; heart-shaped and full, ripe fruits he wants to taste over and over again. He stares at them like a starving dog and Nux seems to get the idea because he blushes like mad when he lifts the waterskin and asks:

“M… more?” 

Instead of answering he grabs the back of Nux’s head and pulls him in for another kiss, savouring the War Boy’s taste, the texture of his scars, the excited little noises he makes, the way he presses his tongue against Max’s. For a moment he thinks he can live off this forever but then Nux wrestles out of his grip and looks at him, dazed and very out of breath. 

“You…” he says shaking his head and Max cannot help but feel pleased about how utterly wrecked his voice sounds “Stop acting like you’re dying. You can drink just fine on your own!” Next thing he knows, the boy shoves the waterskin at him with a little frown. “C’mon! Bottoms up!” 

Obediently he puts it to his mouth and empties it. The water flowing into his system cools down his mind and returns the life to his limbs. All the while his eyes never leave his saviour. Nux is muttering something under his breath but the only word he catches is “…feral…”. The kid is clearly flustered, doesn’t know where to put his hands so he ends up touching his own lips unconsciously all the time but he also smiles and blushes even more, so Max knows he’s not mad. Not really.

“Let’s… let’s get you out of the sun...” Nux mumbles when he sets down the waterskin. His ears are still shining bright red.

He helps Max up and they stumble to the car in a flurry of limbs and crutch that makes them look like a drunk, two-headed crab. Nux unceremoniously dumps him into the free space on the passenger’s side. He doesn’t remember it being so empty and now that he realizes it, there are indeed a lot of things missing. For instance all of Nux’s car parts. 

The folded up tarp is still there and the kid puts it under Max’s head so he can lie down in the cramped space. He feels nauseous from the short walk and has to fight not to throw up the precious water but he manages. Meanwhile Nux strips his jacket off and after that wets a rag and slaps it on his companion’s forehead.

“That oughta help…. Happens all the time. Don’t worry. Been there myself.” he rattles merrily.

Max grabs Nux’s wrist and squeezes it lightly.

“Thanks.” he rasps.

The boy gives him that goofy, slightly apologetic smile he knows so well by now.

“It’s nothing….” He mutters and scratches the back of his head.

Nux looks like he wants to get up but he hesitates and finally leans over Max to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. It makes his heart skip a beat. After that the kid quickly hobbles around the car and wriggles behind the wheel, casting nervous looks at him. 

Oddly enough Max feels no guilt about earlier, no regret. It’s more like he’s been purged of some tension he didn’t even know he’s had in him. There’s a fondness growing in his heart for this desperate, dying boy he can’t deny anymore. And that, yes THAT is something he knows he’s going to regret. But not now, not here, not yet.

Confusion is waiting for him if he follows these thoughts so he tries to push them away and resorts to just staring at Nux as he switches on the ignition and starts heading in the opposite direction he came from. The breeze coming from the open windows chills the wet rag, makes it feel nice and cold like an ice pack. He’s still staring when the kid gingerly puts a hand on his hair.

“Rest, Bloodbag. You’re gonna feel much better soon.” 

Being coddled like this would surely anger Max on any other day but right now the touch feels so good, it soothes his jumbled mind, makes him feel drowsy and content.  
He’s silent for some time, listening to the noises of the engine and the wind, the sound of the tires on the sand.

“Max.” he says then, and feels the hand on his head twitch with surprise. “That’s my name. Stop calling me Bloodbag.”

Next to him Nux laughs, but it’s warm and honest and full of affection.

“So you DO have a name.”

“Everyone does.”

Nux shrugs.

“I thought maybe you lost it.”

That shuts him up for a while, because there might be more to that than he wants to admit.

“Where’re we going?” he asks several clicks later, shaking off the other thought as well. His eyes are heavy with fatigue but he doesn’t want to sleep, not yet.

Nux unfastens his gaze from the road and gives him a quizzical look.

“I found it…” he says after a few seconds “… the place where the birds are.”

There’s an undertone in his voice that doesn’t make him sound very happy, it raises a suspicion in Max.

“That where our stuff went?”

Nux bites his lower lip and nods. 

“What’d you get for it?”

“The chance to look for you.”

“Not sure that was worth it.” the road warrior huffs, amused despite himself.

Nux’s fingers leave his hair and lightly brush over his face and down to his lips before they return to the wheel.

“It was.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw Max... look at you! You struggled so hard but you never had a chance resisting our favorite cinnamon roll. 
> 
> Honestly I'm crazy nervous about this chapter! It's my first fanfic so I hope it didn't turn out too cheesy or self-indulgent. >///<
> 
> I hope you'll still like it my dear readers!  
> Your response so far makes writing this so rewarding and I freak out with happiness a little bit every time I see a new kudos or comment or bookmark/subscription. Actually I'm happy about every single hit this story gets! Thank you!


End file.
